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how does paul simon get away with singing
words like ‘tucson, arizona’, and ‘bodyguard’,
and lines like ‘fat charlie the arc angel sloped
into the room…’??
it’s not fair.

these amazing, jagged, words.
like the everlasting gob stopper from willy wonka
different parts, colors and shapes, jutting out.
and he makes it work.
and as the listener, we take it in. without question.
without getting stabbed in the cheek, or breaking a tooth.

“a man walks down the street.
it’s a street in a strange world.
maybe it’s the third world,
maybe it’s his first time around
he doesn’t speak the language,
he holds no currency,
he is a foreign man,
he is surrounded by the sound,
the sound
of cattle in the market place,
scatterlings and orphanages
he looks around, around,
he sees angels in the architecture
spinning in infinity,
he says Amen!, and Hallelujah!”

are you fucking kidding me?! that’s the verse?!
orphanages? cattle? architecture?
ugh.

my new songs are slow to finish. strong start, then… phfff.
it’s the lyrics, mostly.
but melodies too.
every time i move towards them, they scatter…like deer.
toxic deer crossbred with fucking wolverines.
so you sit there, give space, and if you’re lucky they show up.
then when they do come, if you’re not careful, they maul you.
and so i wait. and try not to try.
try to not let their space get encroached on.
try and stay open.

i went to the rock and roll hall of fame twice last week.
i think that is for another entry, actually…
but my point here is, i went and i was blown open. again.
completely kicked in and re-ignited by the power of music.
of songs. of performances.
then i sit, with my guitar. my notebook, lit on fire,
trying SO HARD to get what i love so much to come through me.
trying to drag theses songs out.
and end up with nothing worth nothing.

i know, i know…  it’s not about trying.
i know it’s actually the opposite.
but that’s hard to remember when you’re burning.

i bought a folding, travel bike last night in denver.
very eco-warrior of me, i know.
lugging my mountain bike out every tour sucks
and it costs too much to ship it back and forth from home.
so i bit the bullet and went to REI before the show.
the bike is wild. it has tiny tires, and hinges.
and it collapses to the size of a suitcase.
preferably not with me on it… but that remains to be seen.
i definitely have fears of eating one to many
Ho-Hos and having that shit clamp down on me, mid-ride.
i’m thinking i’ll take it gingerly until we become friends.

and it is not the coolest looking thing in the world,
but we on the cutting edge of hip… we are not vain.
we are revolutionaries. and revolution, my friends, ain’t pretty.

tiny, folding bikes unite…tonight we ride!